


Cajolery Die

by MonsterParfait



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dom oc, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gambling, Oc is hella tall in comparison to Oswald, Oneshot, Oswald is totally a bottom, Red (Color), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sub Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterParfait/pseuds/MonsterParfait
Summary: Oswald meets a strange woman who's a wiz when it comes to gambling. At first, her almost supernatural winning-streak is an annoyance to him, as well as her company, but soon he realizes he needs her more then he's ever needed anyone else. In one way, or another.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. The Woman In Cherry Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm legit a sucker for Oswald acting like a sub. Not to mention, acting salty towards the reader, lmao.  
> ENJOY MY FIRST ONE-SHOT!

The Iceberg Lounge & Casino buzzed with its usual hubbub of party-drinkers and gamblers. Neatly dressed gentleman with greasy hair, and flirtatious women wearing cocktail dresses practically lined every wall. Everything was as it should be. Exactly how he liked it.

Everything except for _her_.

She stuck out like a sore thumb, or more accurately, a thorn in his side. A lithe, tall body draped casually in a leather seat, one leg hanging off the armrest and the other flat on the floor; heel to marble. The only _real_ reason she stuck out though was her shocking use of cherry red.   
Her suit, a three piece ensemble, was surely the brightest color in the room, followed by her hair which had been dyed a more subtle crimson.   
The locks of deep red curled around her jaw, against her sallow face, as if trying to reach for the uniform red pigment in her lips. 

Oswald had no idea who she was, other than that of a nuisance. She never came for the drinks, or for the people.  
She would walk in, always at 9, dripping head to toe in red with a pair of umber sunshades to hide her eyes, and sit down at the nearest table playing Roulette. From there on, she would play non-stop till the Iceberg Lounge forced everyone to leave for the night.

But it wasn’t just her eye-sore use of color or unusual behavior that had him watching her like a hawk; not really anyways.  
It was _the score_ , or more accurately, her winning streak.   
For the past week, she never failed to make an appearance, and for the past week, she never failed to win. Not once did Oswald ever see that red-dressed woman lose a game to the other players.

Any loud groans or sobs he heard come from her table had been created by her opponents alone, but never did he witness _her_ detached expression change for a second.  
Maybe that’s why she never failed to win at poker either.   
She was a wiz with the dice. Always winning.  
Oswald suspected fowl play, but who didn’t when they came in for the money. He would have large bands of men sit at a table with their loaded dice or extra set of cards hidden in their sleeves. And as quick as he could, Oswald would have his staff rat them out and toss them to the streets, banned for life, lest they return and he kills them. 

Ever since the red woman’s winning streak became somewhat paranormal, he would anxiously wait at the counter, a margarita in his hand while he watched her with ardent eyes, waiting for her to slip up so he would have a reason to throw her out too.   
Her excessive victory score was beginning to lose him more money than usual, and though he could’ve simply grabbed her by the neck and strung her out on the side-walk like a cat, Oswald was not an unreasonable man.   
It would be a deathly toll on his reputation if he simply threw someone out for being good at a game, even if he doubted very highly that she was merely good. There had to be some kind of a method, a cheat to her fingers when she’d toss the dice. Perhaps the fowl play was hidden in her unkempt, rude posture. 

A sudden loud groaning filled the room, and Oswald knew it had come from _her_ table. Obviously she’d won again, but what he wasn’t expecting was the sudden outburst of screaming to follow as the table was angrily shoved aside.   
There was a shrill yelp, and Oswald, as well as he could with his limp, forced himself towards the table to see a burly, large man gripping the woman in red by the brim of her collar. The only difference was it hadn’t been _her_ who’d yelped, but rather the man.   
Just as equally as he gripped her off the floor by her ruby suit, she equally dug her cat-like fake, red nails into his jugular. Not enough to penetrate and break skin, but enough to surprise him and hurt.

“What is the meaning of this!” Oswald angrily yelled, gesturing to both of them with furious eyes. “This is a highly-esteemed casino, not a _brawling_ ground!” He spat.

“She was the one who started it!” The burly man bellowed, his tone filled with resent as he lifted her a few more inches off the ground.   
The woman hardly flinched at his voice, but said nothing. Miraculously, her sunglasses were still clinging to her face, hiding the emotion in her eyes.

 _Now doubt_ , Oswald thought, _they were filled with perilous fear._

“Is this true?” He seethed, addressing the ruby-red woman when he spoke. 

Still she said nothing, but slowly, she smiled, digging her nails further into the man’s throat in an act of defense. 

“She didn’t start nothin’” The staff member who’d been working at their table, groaned in irritation. He was sitting somewhat dazed on the floor, tossed aside when the table had been shoved into him. He was gripping his leg now, most likely hurt as he stared daggers into the burly man. “She won, and he was mad, so he attacked her”

Oswald’s pulse only heightened at this. He suddenly gestured at the burly man who was lifting the woman, and frowned, his face filled with disgust. 

“Take this man and throw him out, and if he--- _ever_ \---comes back, tell me so I can shove a fork down his throat for making such a horrific mess of _my_ casino.” Oswald slowly pronounced, watching as his heavily armed staff wrestled the man into letting the woman go before they forced him through the front door with boisterous yelling. 

The common crowd of the Iceberg Lounge still stared in disbelief, but a single scowl gleaming in Oswald’s face forced them back into their original business. The chattering and music quickly began again, and suddenly, his eyes were angrily locked to the red woman.

He _knew_ \---he just _knew_ , she was trouble. 

“And you!” He suddenly called, limping towards her with the aid of his slender, black cane to help him along. “Whether or not you were the cause of this, I should think this is a warning for you to be a little _wiser_ with how you win your games”

For the first time since the woman had come to the Iceberg Lounge & Casino, she talked. 

“Mr. Cobblepot” She carefully spoke, her voice smooth as champagne, yet somewhat static and unruly. He wasn’t sure if this made it pleasant or annoying, but the way it pooled from her bright red lips made it sound like it belonged to a pompous alley-cat, rather than a woman dressed in red. “Are you accusing me of angering that man because I cheated?”

Oswald smiled in an attempt to hide the bitter annoyance in his face behind a tight-lipped grin. “No offence, _of course,_ ” He sarcastically began. “But I think you’re a rotten little cheater, and all I need is one _smithereene_ of evidence and I’ll have you tossed out along with him!”

“How quant” The woman softly spoke, though there was an ounce of offendment ringing in her odd voice. “But I can assure you, Mr. Cobblepot, I play just as fairly as anyone. The only difference is I take the game seriously.”

“Of course!” He snapped through the smile that was still shining in his face. “How else would you have developed such an impressive, other-wordly winning streak, might I ask?”

“Perhaps I’m terribly lucky?”

“ _Whatever!_ ” Oswald angrily interjected as he stepped forward to intimidate her, but the plan quickly fell through the floor when he came to the awkward realization that the woman stood several inches taller than him. She had to angle her head a sharp 90-degrees just to look him in the eyes when he stood so close. 

She was like a lamp-post in those cherry-red, lady-lynch stilettos. 

He bit his tongue now in annoyance, feeling the undying urge to grapple her neck and pull her down to eye-level. The fact that she was ‘ _literally’_ looking down at him felt offensive.

“If you become the root of another problem, I’ll--- **I’ll** …..” His voice cut short, and suddenly the ability to threaten her had left him. What could he possibly threaten her with? She’d done nothing wrong, and if he had no evidence of her cheating, what was the point?

Casino owners found it petty when fellow casino owners would throw players out simply because they were costing them money for being good at the game. If Oswald dared to do that, it would make him look like a frugal coward in comparison to his competitors, and he abhorred the mere idea of that. _Yet_ , here she continued to stand, waiting for the threat to leave his pouting lips.

“I’ll prove you’ve been cheating, is what I’ll do!” He quickly blurted, pointing an accusing finger in her face. 

She smiled again, calm and collected. 

“Still set on that, are you?” She musically laughed. “Why not play me for it then?”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“I’ll make you a deal.” The woman casually told him. “If you can beat me at a game of your choosing, I’ll leave your casino and never come back. Problem solved.”

Oswald bit the inside of his cheek as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. It was an interesting offer, and if he could fairly get her to leave and stop causing him so much trouble and money, he’d be set for the rest of his business days. 

“Any game of my choosing?” He questioned, watching her lean a supple hand against her hip; though, she hardly seemed like she had one. She was as straight as a fridge, and if she weren’t so lanky, she might’ve been built like one too. There was zero curve in her body. 

“That’s right.” She reiterated before readjusting the knot in her black neck-tie. It had come undone when the burly man lifted her off the ground, wrinkling the cuff of her shirt and undoing her windsor knot. “But the catch is, if _‘I’_ win, you have to be the man of the hour and accompany me on a night out on the town”

“Excuse me?” Oswald repeated again.

The way she sighed made it seem like she must’ve rolled her eyes behind those glassy, sunshades.

“It’s just fancy talk for, ‘you have to let me take you out’”

“On a _date?”_ He suddenly choked, hardly able to utter the word in absolute disgust. 

“No with a gun” 

Oswald opened his mouth with furious eyes as if he were readying to defend himself against a threat, but she quickly beat him to the chase.

“ _Yes_ , I mean on a date--- _If that’s what you’d like to call it_ \---you can calm down, Mr. Cobblepot. I have no intention of murdering you.”

A hue of embarrassment quickly overflowed his face, and he pierced his eyes, getting more annoyed with her every second that passed. “As if I’d go on a date with someone like you!” He sneered, watching her place a hand to her heart as if offended. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it” She smiled instead, caressing the edge of his cheek with the back of her hand in a delicate manner that shook him with surprise. He stepped back, batting her hand away. “But surely you didn’t think I just came for the gambling, did you?”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Miss, but you don’t seem a woman of substance” Oswald spitefully smiled. “What else could you possibly be here for? We only offer three things at the Iceberg Lounge. Booze, Gambling, and friendly socialization.”

The corners of the red-woman’s lips curled in a small smile, and she laughed again. The sound itself felt as if it rose above the noisy crowd and filled the room, leeching its way into everyone’s ears. 

Slowly, but carefully, she leant in now, bending at her knees to whisper something in his ear. 

_“You”_

In a flash of light, she’d turned her back on him and marched towards the nearest table playing ‘craps’, and for a moment, he was thankful she was gone so she couldn’t have seen the rose-colored flush settling in his shocked expression. 

Oswald had never been one to attract attention, unless it was that of the police or someone looking to take advantage of his power, but never, (or at least rarely), did he attract someone because of his looks. Sure he thought himself dapper, but he never once considered that someone else would think the same. 

He knew he wasn’t conventionally attractive and held more flaws than most people did, but the mere idea that someone like her would have come simply because they fancied him was almost absurd. _Suspicious even_. 

The moment of shock quickly passed, and he shook his head, ridding himself of the thought. 

**No** , this woman was lying. He was sure of it. This had happened before.

Someone took advantage of his greatest weakness, (his heart), and turned it against him. It was the same story, over and over again. First with Galavan, then with Edward, then with Sofia Falcone, and now _her_.

The ruby woman. 

The devil with die. 

“Zsas” Oswald suddenly spoke, gesturing for the assassin to join him at his side. “Do me a favor and keep a _very_ close eye on our guest over there for the remainder of the evening. Report back to me if any evidence of suspicion should arise”

“Got it, Boss” The pale man smiled as his fingers tightened around the barrel of his silenced gun. Slowly, he prowled towards the woman’s table and disappeared amongst the rave, leaving Oswald alone once more.

He refused to be taken advantage of, whether with his heart or in his casino. Either way, he wouldn’t let this unnerving woman win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people don't know this, but /Dice/ is singular and /Die/ is plural when referring to Playing Die.


	2. She Likes a Little Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bet her lips taste like cherries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All choppy, off-paced, lousy writing belongs to yours truly.  
>  _~me~_  
>  MonsterParfait

Oswald leisurely stirred the blue alcohol in his margarita glass, and just as he’d predicted, there _she_ was. Marching through the doors of the Iceberg Lounge, over-kill in red, was the woman. 

As far as he was concerned though, he was beginning to run out of shades of red to refer to her by.

Crimson. Cherry. Ruby. Scarlet. 

How could he settle on a single tint when her choice of the spectrum was always changing? (Minus her hair of course). It was the only thing on her person that stayed the same hue of red: dark crimson, _naturally_. 

Today though, she didn’t immediately settle down to play a few rounds of roulette, but instead decided to join him at the bar.

Carelessly, she slid into the stool beside him, leaning her ankle against her thigh as she ordered something light. 

  
  


“Sybille” 

“Excuse me?” He promptly replied with a frown.

“You can call me Sybille” She clarified with a small smirk of amusement. “Though; my friends usually just settle on calling me Bill for short. It’s a bit unclassier, but it does the job”

Oswald laughed, seemingly amused, but remaining uninterested. 

“Is that your real name?” He scoffed.

“ _No_ ” She casually smiled. “---Is Cobblepot your real surname?”

His face immediately soured, and he looked away, directing his attention instead on the band that was performing tonight. Soft blues seemed to weep from the instruments themselves, pooling across the floor and settling the occupants in a calm daze. He focused on the sound and sights; the icy blue spotlights that reflected against their sparkly suits and instruments. In comparison to most evenings, this was the calmest he’d seen it yet. 

“Have you considered my offer?” She asked him this time, following his gaze to watch the band.   
Oswald rolled his eyes, evidently huffing in annoyance. 

“I could just kick you out myself, you know?” He snarkly told her. “It would save me an _immense_ amount of time.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose and have to go on a date with an awful and annoying woman like myself”

“You said it, not _me---”_ Oswald suddenly choked, coming to an immediate stand still in his sentence before he turned to bore two symmetrical holes in her head at the realization of what she’d just said. “I could beat you at a game _any_ day, _Miss Sybille!_ ” Oswald snapped, his face turning almost as red as her suit. “But to take time out of my busy schedule---well---it would be a frivolous waste.”

“How blunt you are, Mr. Cobblepot” She smiled again, and to his disgust, it was out of admiration and intrigue. 

Could he do or say anything that would turn her away?   
Perhaps stepping on her like a cockroach would rid him of her presence faster.

For a fleeting moment, he fantasized the idea of Zsas carrying her away by the arm, shooting her at the pier and tossing the evidence in the river that had functioned better as a cemetery than any real one ever did. It brought him immeasurable pleasure just thinking about it to the point he almost considered it. After all, pest control was just as important to him as getting rid of back-stabbing mutinies. Killing her, (a thorn in his side), would simply be an act of necessity.   
_Yet_ , he couldn’t. He always prized himself as a man of respect. Never would he stoop so low as to kill someone off because they were an annoyance to his existence, no matter how much he wished to do so.

Still, despite his obvious dislike towards her, the woman called Sybille continued to entertain his company.   
Night after night, like a loyal hound refusing to leave its owner, she would come back. 

One night, she even convinced him to stand beside her while she played a round of BlackJack. Sometime between then, she had distractedly trailed her fingers down his arm in thought whilst studying the cards she had in hand. He didn’t immediately jerk away, but the moment her fingers met his hand, he finally pulled back, clearly stunned.   
She only laughed though, apologizing if she’d gotten ahead of herself so quickly. She mentioned something along the lines of, ‘Sometimes, I can hardly stand to keep my hands off of you’.

Oswald’s face had turned red, first a mix of flattery and surprise, and then frustration. He promptly told her to never do it again lest he stab her in the eye with a pen, and after that, he stomped off as the sound of her instrumental laughter followed his every move.  
He refused to talk to her since then, but she seemed to ignore that.   
No matter what he said or did, she would always return to the Iceberg Lounge, nine-o-clock, and chat him up for a few minutes. Pretending he didn’t hear her never stopped her. She was persistent, and he gave her that. 

One night though, things suddenly changed.  
And It was something awful. 

Per usual around ten-o-clock after Sybille had properly spoken to him, she would be seated at a table playing poker. She called it a child’s game, he’d heard her say once. Something she only played for the fun of it, rather than genuinely betting. 

That was until she won; easily as ever.

The man across from her, a greasy looking weasel, slammed the table in anger and began to yell at her. Accusing her of cheating. This was the seventh round he’d lost to Sybille, and he. was. livid.  
She kept her cool of course, (as always), up until he produced a pocket knife from his vest and stabbed it straight through the top of her hand, pinning it to the table. 

Oswald had been the first to hear the guttural gasp that had left her lips, Zsas and his Zsasettes second. 

Within seconds, Oswald was screaming at the top of his lungs for Zsas to get the man under-control.  
Those shadowy sunglasses still hid her face, but for once, he could tell she was sweating in disturbance. Sybille was clutching her wrist, seemingly afraid to remove the knife as her, Oswald, and the rest of the occupants at the Iceberg Lounge witnessed Zsas beat the living day-lights out of the man before he dragged him across the floor out-back where he would inevitably never return. 

If a pair of people at the lounge got in a fight, they would be asked to leave until they sorted themselves out.

If someone caused immeasurable damage, or was caught cheating in one of the casino games, they would be thrown out and banned for life.

But if someone _dare_ hurt another customer of the lounge, Oswald, (without batting an eye), would have Zsas pull them out back, and either have them beaten to a pulp, or beaten to death. He usually never had a preference between the two, but tonight, he hoped there would be nothing left of that man. 

“Are you alright, Sybille?” he found himself asking her, watching as she stared down at the knife in revulsion. 

By some miracle, even through her pain, she still managed a smile, though it was more tight-lip than usual. 

“Just dandy” She’d forcefully laughed.

Oswald immediately demanded for a medic to come and help remove the knife from her hand with expert precision. What happened after that though had left him more stunned then Sybille had been when a 6-inch knife was jammed between her carpal bones. 

She sat docile now, sluggish eyes hidden behind sunglasses watching the medic wrap her hand up in a cotton bandage. Leaning against the arm-rest, judging the medics work was Oswald who inadvertently loomed over her. 

“Oswald.” Sybille softly mumbled, catching him temporarily off guard as he looked down at her with a straight expression. “Come” She motioned with her finger as he gradually began to lean in to hear her better. Her voice was more quiet then usual tonight.

Her fingers wrapped slowly around the arms of her sunglasses, and hesitantly, she pulled them off to reveal surprisingly copper irises that had been hidden behind them. They seemed to glow under the dim fluorescents of the club, and for a moment, he was speechless. Like someone had just let him in on a very cryptic secret. 

In fact, his distraction was so far pulled, that he hadn’t even noticed her fingers were under his chin, pulling him forward so she could briefly press her lips to the corner of his mouth in a silent thank-you.  
Despite his surprise and the subtle look of anitpathy glowing in his face, he refused to pull away, allowing her lips to linger for a single breath more before she finally let go. 

With the mischievousness of a cat, she winked at him and left, leaving Oswald both breathless and confused.

His fingers suddenly began to trail the area where her kiss had been left, and in a moment that felt like a hundred years, he could feel his body tense in surprise.

He hated to admit it, or more accurately, _loathed_ to admit it.

But secretly, _he had liked it._


	3. A Dangerous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd see Oswald as a prize too, if I'd won him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, this chapter got little edits, soooo like. any typos, and trash writing belongs to yours truly.  
> Moi.  
> Monsterparfait. <3 :)

Sybille didn’t come back the following night, and Oswald, for the first time in a long time, was severely worried. 

She had never failed to make an appearance since the first time she came to the Iceberg Lounge, but since the incident last night, she was nowhere to be seen.  
And even worse, Oswald didn’t know which incident it was that kept her away.

Was it the man who’d stabbed her in the hand, or was it the kiss?

The thought drove him insane. 

All evening, he cradled a glass in his hands, nursing it with anguish as he hoped she might turn up, if late. But slowly by slowly, the hours went by and he was slowly losing hope. Before he knew it, closing time had fallen upon the Iceberg Lounge and everyone was ushered out. And Sybille?

Still nowhere to be seen. 

To his even greater disappointment, the next day was exactly the same.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the next day. 

Slowly, the image of the lanky woman dressed in red escaped his mind and business continued on as usual. He didn’t think anything of her since then, but every once in a while, he would catch a vibrant red in the crowd and jump to his feet in hopes it was her, but it never was.

Until the day she made quite the alarming return, _that was_. 

It was closing time for the Iceberg Lounge & Casino, and Oswald was busy at the bar, sipping on a margarita while he read the figures for his business, and by the looks of it, things were going quite well. He was making more money than ever.

Leaning to lift his glass again, the sound of a gunshot scared him senseless and he hadn’t even realized that it was his margarita, now sitting in a pile of shards in his hand, was the thing that had been shot.   
Angrily, he dropped the pieces to the floor and turned towards the source of the gun-shot to see a sight that made him quiver. 

There in the doorway stood the man who’d stabbed Sybille’s hand, surrounded by a troupe of his own. He had survived, miraculously enough, and to Oswald’s even greater surprise, there held to his side was Sybille herself.   
She looked rough.  
Her usually pristine, 20’s style hair was disheveled and unruly. Her sunshades, seemingly blessed by God himself, were still sitting on the tip of her nose, though one of the lenses had been broken. Blood was dripping down her nose and over her mouth, and a bruise looked to be forming under her eye now. 

“Hello, Ozzy” She chirped like usual, though he could sense the uncertainty glooming in her tone. No doubt, she was shaken.

Hastily, he scrambled down from the stool he’d been sitting on and stared at the man and his troupe with furious eyes.

“What is the meaning of this! What is going on!” He yelled in anger, when the force of a metal object bashing him in the lower back sent him to his knees.

It sounded like Sybille had yelled for them to stop, but Oswald couldn’t be sure.  
There was a part of him that even hoped it was one of the men getting the absolute shit beaten out of them by her hand, but when he looked up, he was wrong. The greasy-looking man was still clutching her forcefully by the arm.

“Mr. Cobblepot” The man smiled, ugly and rotten. “You and this little vermin here both seem to enjoy a good game, don’t you?” He laughed. A noise that easily drove nails into Oswald’s skull. “Don’t think I forgot what you had your lackey do to me after I taught this, _‘thing’,_ here a thing or two about cheating in a fair game of poker”

“I didn’t cheat.” Sybille sighed in frustration, only for the man holding her to strike her across the face, his blood boiling in his guts.

“ _Quiet you!_ We’re going to settle this fair and square after you almost costed me every dime and nickel I had for the eighth time, and you---” He gestured at Oswald. “For almost getting me killed by your lackey.”

Oswald felt his face grow red in anger, but there was little he could do when he felt one of the man’s associates press the barrel of a loaded gun to the back of his head.

“Stephan! Grab two chairs and a poker table” The man yelled as he pulled Sybille along with him while his men got to work, clearing off the nearby seating, and laying out a playing space ready to be entertained. 

Forcefully, he shoved Sybille down into one of the leather couches while he sat down on the other end with a grim look dripping in his expression.

“We’re going to play this out fair and square” he darkly mulled. 

The woman smirked now, slowly leaning back in the chair as she spread her legs across the cushion to assert her own sense of dominance while her fingers creeped down the armrests 

“Really?” She finally cracked, her smile growing wider. “You want to try and beat me at a game of poker. The game in which you lost to me a dozen times?”

The man snarled, leaning forward as his eyes grew fiery with rage.

“Not this time! This time you don’t have any dirty tricks up your sleeve. My men checked you before we got here!”

Again, and to Oswald’s horror, Sybille laughed and asked a daring question.

“What’s the stakes now, cowboy? What If I beat you again?”

“Beating me again would have to be a miracle by God, and in the very unlikely scenario that you did, your life, and his---” He points to Oswald again. “Will be your reward”

“And if I lose” She slowly asked, leaning further in as well.

The man smiled something unpleasant.   
“I get to kill you”

Sybille sighed to herself, but never did that reckless smile leave her ruby lips.   
“I see” She told him before looking towards Oswald who was staring at her, clearly fear stricken. He was powerless, and yet, he looked so beautiful under the shadows and miniscule night-club lights that filled the obscurely lit room.

Flawless pale skin. The cute, sharp nose. Eyes that seem to encapsulate the ocean itself. And the hair--- _oh_ \---she _adored_ the hair.  
Soft, ebony locks as black as the universe itself was gelled back at the top of his head in an attractive wisp. She swore it was only then did she finally notice the streak of purple dyed into his crown. 

Slowly, the smile in her face loosened into a peaceful expression as she gestured for Oswald to come, patting her thigh as an invitation for him to sit.

She’d never seen Oswald look so coy as he hesitantly limped across the room towards her, but as soon as he was close enough, her arm immediately snaked around his waist and pulled him down into her lap, petting him gently where she held him.  
He refused to say anything, though as close as he was to her, she could sense the warmth over-taking his face.  
He writhed slightly, but was far from being in discomfort.   
The way Sybille so elegantly cradled him to her chest, her chin now resting on his shoulder, had single-handedly, (and unusually), become the most comfortable position he’d ever been in.  
And despite his life now being balanced between the woman’s potential victory, and the small chance that Victor Zsas might randomly show up, he felt safe between her arms. Feeling her heart pound violently in her chest. Her breath, as slow as she could manage it, brushing the fabric on his shoulder.

Within a single gesture, the annoyance he once so easily found in Sybille disappeared and he gradually leaned into her, praying for her protection if things went south. 

Never again would he be angry if the woman-in-red won another game. Never again would he accuse her of cheating, or even be mad at her if she _had_ been cheating.

He needed her now more than ever. 

  
  


Taking the initiative, the man decided to be the one to deal the cards between the two of them, and Oswald prayed he wouldn’t tamper with the shuffling.

His eyes were keenly pinned to the man’s fingers as he sorted the cards, when suddenly, the soft sensation of a kiss being pressed to the back of his neck ripped Oswald from his focus.  
In a single breath, something had seized his guts and he realized Sybille had been the one to kiss him on the sensitive, exposed area. 

Slow and nervous, he swallowed, feeling her lean further into him to whisper in his ear.  
“Don’t worry my little Oz. I’ve only lost a game of poker twice in my whole life. What are the chances I lose tonight?” She had humorously joked, though the punchline was quickly lost to him as his blood ran cold.

Sybille must have sensed that and pressed her lips softly against the skin on his neck again, pulling a shiver through his body at the feather-like contact.   
“Relax Penguin.” She soothingly told him as the fingers she clutched his waist with slowly trailed across his thighs now and stopped at his hip to grasp him slightly. “Let’s say I win this and save your skin, right? I think you might owe me a little something after” She softly laughed, her breath chilly against his neck as he felt her drag him closer till she was certain there wasn’t a centimeter of space left between their bodies.   
He could tell she did this out of protection, and shyly enough, (in his eyes), out of possession. 

“Alright Sybille” The man huskily spoke as he handed her a set of cards. “I’m sure you’ve probably played ‘Heads Up’ before, haven’t you?”

“Of course” She grinned. “I’d be a disgrace if I hadn’t”

The man frowned, not finding the smallest amount of humor in her snarky replies. 

“Stephen” He suddenly called to one of his friends. “You be the dealer.”

“You’re already breaking a lot of rules!” Oswald angrily snapped, gaining a violent glare from the man sitting across from them.

“My game. My rules” He growled before looking down at his cards as the dealer, now-appointed-Stephen, set down their small blind card. A card neither player could look at. Only the Dealer knew what it was.  
Since the stakes at hand were Sybille and Oswald’s lives, (which would be considered a pot or a single bet), the name of the game would be, no pun intended, a sudden-death round.  
Usually poker would last long amounts of time because every fold of cards counted as a round. Since there was only one thing to bet on though, that would mean whatever cards they had now, and whoever had the highest value, would immediately win.   
At this point, it was pure luck based on the cards the man had dealt them both, and the way Sybille stared down at her cards made Oswald’s skin crawl.   
She studied them, and he hardly dared to look as he felt her fingers fiddle mindlessly with the buttons on his waist-coast, seemingly to distract herself while both players made up their minds about what card to place down.

If either of the cards Sybille and the man placed down, each called a big blind, was lower in value then the small blind, they would be immediately eliminated.  
But if it was above or the same in value, then it all came down to which opponent could pull a card with the higher value from his or her deck.  
In other words, the battle to have a card higher in value than the small blind was crucial to win, but it also meant you would have to pray that your second to most valuable card was still worth more than your opponents. 

For instance, if you had a deck with a 10, 3, 2, 1 and 1, your second to highest most valuable card would be a 3, meaning you’d probably be doomed to lose unless your opponent’s second to most valuable card happened to be a 2 or 1. 

Then again, you could always take a chance that the value of the small blind is low in value, meaning you wouldn’t have to waste your most valuable card, but that was tricky business to play with. Oswald and Sybille were the stakes on the line, and if Sybille dared screw up, they were both goners.

Admittedly, Oswald had never felt his heart beat more anticipatedly then it was right now.  
He held his breath, biting anxiously on his nail as he watched Sybille continue to eye her cards. She wouldn’t let him see them either, probably so he wouldn’t give away any bluff she was going to attempt to pull over the man’s sinister looking eyes.

“Ready to put your big blind down?” he slyly mumbled, watching the woman in red with careful eyes. 

Finally, Sybille smiled, cold and threatening. 

She leaned into Oswald again, suddenly shifting him around so both his legs were dangling off her thighs and his back was leaning against her arm. With a single hand, she pulled out a card and set the remainder of her deck aside.  
Still, she refused to lay her big blind down as she brushed her lips against the spine of Oswald’s ear, whispering,

“Kiss me for goodluck?” she innocently asked him. 

Oswald swore under his breath, unable to decide if she was asking because she knew she might lose, or because she was certain she’d win.

Rolling his eyes and huffing, he looked straight at her with a stare that could kill.

“Right now!?” He fumed with furrowed brows, watching as Sybille rolled her eyes in amusement. Still, he was unsure if she was scared or not.

“If I end up losing, wouldn’t you like the soft lips of a _‘pretty’_ lady to be the last thing you feel” She sarcastically joked while staring directly at the man across from her as if drawing out the length of the game was the funniest thing on earth. 

Again, Oswald sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index, praying she knew what she was doing.

"Bill,” He bluntly started. “If you beat that ingrate, I’ll let you marry me, but for God sakes, take the game seriously! Our lives are on the line!”

“ _I’m aware_ ” She nonchalantly drawled “That being said, won’t you kiss me for good luck, Penguin?”

In defeat and without missing a beat, Oswald grabbed her face in his hands and pressed a surprisingly passionate and needy kiss to her lips. At first it was out of necessity for her to get on with the game, but slowly the feeling of her touch and the sensation of her hands trailing down his thighs crept into his ribs and strangled his heart-strings. 

The kiss was no longer out of obligation, but of want. _Of desire_.

It felt like he’d waited a million years to do this, but all too soon, the fiery kiss was over, and astonishingly enough, _she_ had been the one to pull away first.  
She looked at him somewhat in disbelief, her cherry-red lipstick printed on his pouty lips before she slowly turned to stare at the man and cheekily wink.

“Sorry,” She cooly told him as she finally placed her big blind on the table, the card face down. “Just making amends with my love. Ya know, just in case we end up kicking the bucket despite my cunning efforts” Sybille laughed in amusement, watching as Oswald’s face grew pinker when she addressed him as, _‘her love’_.

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t even mind it. In fact, he liked it.

The way the title rolled off her tongue felt so effortless and right, like it belonged there. 

Carefully, she grasped Oswald’s waist and pulled him close again, watching as he sat up straighter, somewhat proud to be in her grasp.

The time had come for the ‘dealer’ to flip the cards.

Oswald suddenly felt Sybille gripping him more harshly around the waist and he realized she was frightened. Frightened she might lose and would have to pay with their lives.  
The danger of the moment quickly crept up each vertebrae on his spine, and he clung to her too, his arms guided carefully around her ribs as he grasped small handfuls of her suit-jacket between his slender fingers. 

The dealer first flipped the small blind, revealing that the number their cards had to be higher in value then was a 6. 

Sybille immediately bit her lip, turning her attention away from the game as she nuzzled into the crook of Oswald’s neck, pressing sensual, long kisses against his skin.  
His heart began to wildly beat, both from her kisses and from the fact that he had no idea if she was only kissing him because she knew she’d lost, or because she didn’t care anymore.

Oswald grasped her coat more tightly, and the dealer turned the man’s card to reveal he’d placed down a 9. He was safe.

Now it was Sybille’s card.

Oswald held his breath, melting into Sybille’s touch as he looked towards the ceiling and listened as the dealer slowly flip her card over.

Simultaneously, both her and Oswald turned to look and a heavy weight went crashing through his chest as he heard Sybille break into loud, obnoxious fits of laughter.

She’d placed down a 6 as well, meaning she was safe by the skin of her teeth. 

“ **_You idiot!_ **” He suddenly yelled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking them furiously with both anger and relief. “You had me freaking the hell out for nothing!!! You knew we were safe!”

Sybille only continued to laugh, but the man across from them was hasty to break their excitement.

“You forget!” He spitefully scowled, hushing her laughter as she instantly turned back to look at him, the smile still having not left her lips though. “Since we both survived the small blind, now we both have to put down another big blind and see which of the two of us has the higher value card” He laughed, pulling a singular card from his deck. “And I’m afraid to admit, but I think I've won.” He sarcastically grinned, throwing a king of spades down on the table with an annoying laugh that filled every inch of the room with an awful tone.

Oswald gasped, clutching to Sybille with eyes full of fear.

“NO! This can’t be happening! There’s no way you could have won!” He loudly argued when he suddenly lunged from the woman’s lap to point lividly at the man. “This is Sybille we’re talking about! THEE Devil with a set of die! This woman’s never lost a single game in her entire goddamn life!”

“Oswald”

“You cheated you little greasy coward! You pulled that damned card from your sleeve so you could win!”

“Oswald” 

“Why you little! I OUGHT TO---”

“ **Oswald!** ” Sybille loudly interjected.

“What!” He spat, turning to face her when something new suddenly flooded his face. 

Joy. It was joy. 

Pure and raw joy. 

Because lifted in Sybille’s hand, clasped between her pointer and index finger, was a glistening, cherry-red ace of hearts. Neither Oswald nor the man could believe what they were seeing.

“Oh my God...” Oswald stuttered, his eyes massive with shock. “We-We-We….”

“We won” She finished for him, tossing the card carefully onto the poker table as she rose to her feet, hooking Oswald possessively around the waist. “Fair and square, bitch.”

“That’s impossible!” The man roared as he jumped to his feet, snatching the rest of her deck off the side of the table to count them ferociously. 

“Admit it, cowboy” Sybille smiled as she stroked Oswald carefully down his waist like he was her prize. _Her trophy._  
“I’m just a force of nature casinos will always fear” She playfully grinned as her face grew grim and evil like she’d suddenly turned into the devil himself.  
“ _Now_ \-----before Victor Zsas realizes his boss is missing, comes here, and slowly by slowly; piece by piece; tears you and your friends apart, I suggest you make like my mother did on my third birthday, and move out.” And suddenly, she was looking down at Oswald now, her eyes dripping into his. 

“And you!---You and I have some unfinished business to take care of, my little Penguin.” She coolly purred as her fingers began to trail up his throat, pausing to caress his pretty lips. “Let’s say we talk about that date you finally owe me, yeah?”

Oswald deliberately swallowed again, staring at her lips as the feeling of her fingers holding him crawled slowly through his body, making it burn from the inside out. He was sure his face was turning rosy once again.

“O-Okay”

_“Atta’boy!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I'm not gonna lie. I had a LOT of fun writing this, and Sybille and Oswald's dynamic really made me smile.  
> But HLYCNNLI, i cannot believe I wrote 23 pages worth of a one-shot in a single day.  
> as my favorite meme once said,
> 
> KOWABUNGA IT IS.
> 
> thx ya'll so much for reading! I'd really love to hear your own personal and special thoughts on the one-shot and if you think I should do more in the future! :)  
> Mazel Tov :p


End file.
